The Saga
by TheSagaWriter
Summary: This is the life story of the Marauders. From the time Remus got bitten to the time Sirius was throw away in Azkaban. Adventure, Romance, Humor...This story has it all, as the Marauders would have wanted. [Edit chapter one]
1. Meeting Aurors

"Have you seen a little boy? Black messy hair, looks just like him only little?" A frantic women with hazel eyes was pointing at her husband. Her child was lost at a quidditch match. A nearby gaurd, who was rather round, was rolling his eyes. This kind of thing happened much to frequently for him to worry. The woman,who was now speaking feverishly, looked out of place. It seemed as if she were more dressed to be at a ball than a sporting event. Her robes were obviously expensive and she carried herself proudly. But now her once neat hair was out of place and her shirt was twisted. Her husband was not half as worried as she was.  
  
"Honey, you know how James is. He'll turn up." He smiled at her and it was plain to see that he was an easy going man. The way he stood illustrated his simple elegance. He looked just as high class as his wife, but he was more layed back. It looked as if you could tell him the world was ending and he would just nod and say everything was fine.  
  
Above the couple was a pair of truely black magic folk. Their dress was sloppy. It wasn't that they couldn't afford better clothes or hygiene, it was that they didn't care to try. The man had long black hair that was obviously uncombed. His wife was to say the least, unattractive. Maybe they would have seemed so dark if they didn't both have scowls on their faces. The people sitting closest to them were three feet away and glancing nervously in their direction.  
  
"Do you want any?" The woman was holding up a bag of choclate frogs in her discolored fingers. The man only grunted and took it without thanks. Little did the two of them know or care, their son was crawling around in the dirt under the stands, playing 'Auror.'  
  
"Die!" A small boy was standing in the shade of the stands, pointing a long stick at an imaginary bad guys. The couple in the stands was too lazy to notice when their son has snuck away. The two of them would shudder to know what this boy was up too. They supported the very organization that he was fighting.  
  
With his face smudged with dark stains he hit a stance. Legs apart arms up, wand pointed. "You can't get away this time!" He charged forward with his dark, uncut hair streaming behind him. "Adava Kaedra!" He shouted. Obviously he didn't quite know everything yet. But he did manage to kill the bad guy, if you were wondering.  
  
"What are you playing?" asked a young and curious voice. A messy raven haired boy was dunking under a support beam, walking toward the boy. He was dressed much too primly to be under the stands in the dirt.  
  
"Auror." The playing boy looked startled and let his arm fall to his side, dropping the stick that had been his wand. His eyes glanced up in spurts, as if he was afraid to look up for too long. This boy with the torn cloths had not been allowed to interact with other children as much as he should have and now it showed.  
  
The other boy didn't seem to notice his timid nature. He walked up with a grin on his face, unaware even of the differences in socail class. That is the beauty of being a child. You never know that the world is a harsh place. Its a beautiful thing. Thats why the boy was able to tell him his name so freely. He didn't know that in the future it would be dangerous. "I'm James Potter. Who are you?"  
  
At first it seemed the boy would never answer. His mouth opened and shut once before he finally spoke. "Sirius Black." You must be gasping now, eh?  
  
James was staring at Sirius' cheek. It was hardly noticable, but under the dirt smudged across it was a yellow-purple tinged patch. Immediately the young boy's eyes had traveled to it, recognizing it as a bruise. He had recieved many of them in his days. Many from taking out his father's broom and falling off. "What's that from?" he asked, staring at it.  
  
Sirius bit his lip nervously. In fact, he had been forbidden to tell about it. He wasn't about to answer for fear he would get a matching wound on the other cheek. His father had given him the blimish. One night when he had gotten drunk and started yelling. It happened quite often really. His mother always covered for him, putting dirt on him to hide it. She was ruff with him as she did it, pushing painfully on the senstive area. Sirius' eyes grew wide in fright at the question.  
  
"Its alright. My mom says I'm really sick." James had noticed his reluctance. He was very perceptive for a nine year old. This statement wouldn't have made since to anyone, but Sirius. Sure it was grammatically correct and perfectly worded, but it wouldn't have offered much comfort to most. Sirius knew it was meant to say that everyone has their problems. Another unfortunate side effect of growing up. Such cyptic messages would stop working.  
  
Sirius smiled at him. "Want to play?" James nodded back enthusiastically and picked up his own stick. "What you do is get rid of all of the bad guys with your wand." Sirius picked up a new stick and looked over at his new companion. "No, no," he said, grabbing the stick James had chosen. "It has to be nice and long so the curses hurt.  
  
"Like this?" James picked up a new long stick and showed him.  
  
After that the two of them became fast friends. For about another hour they played together under the stands. About 100 villians were killed during their game. Too bad they were only figments of their imaginations and not actual Death Eaters, which, little did they know, would later take their lives.  
  
Fun cannot last forever, as many of us know.  
  
"Sirius! You little brat!" A loud harsh voice boomed. The crowd was just letting out. The snitch had been caught. The man from the stand was stomping over to his child, looking like a rampaging bull. His team had lost and tonight was surely going to be a ruff one in the Black household.  
  
Sirius dropped his play wand. His eyes were on the ground, afraid to look up. It was certian he would be in trouble now. The wide man moved out of the crowd and towards them very quickly. James stopped what he was doing and stared at the man. "What are you doing you little brat," Mr. Black shot at the strange child. He walked past him to Sirius and raised his hand.  
  
With a large motion he came down, but he was forced to stop at the last second! "NO!" little James was crying. He had placed himself inbetween Sirius and his father. It was a brave act, but also a stupid one. He stood with his legs apart in a confident stance, staring the man right in the eyes, though he was ten times smaller.  
  
Mr. Black was startled, but it didn't take him long to recover. His hand was raised once again. "Move, boy, or I will hit you too." James' parents had been attracted to the scene by hid voice. They were fighting their way through the back of the crowd because the many whispers told of a messy black haired boy.  
  
"No. You shouldn't hurt Sirius," he cried in his frim and inherently young voice. He didn't move an inch, nor did he flinch at the sight of the man's arm pulled back.  
  
"You made a mistake, boy. A big one." If possible, his arm pulled back another few inchs and started down on James. It was slow motion. Every second took so long, but James still didn't dodge. His hand was inches away from the child when he was jerked away.  
  
"How dare you hit my child?" roared James' father. His hand was wrapped in the cloth of Mr. Black's robe and his wand was drawn and pointed skillfully.  
  
"I-I-..." His tough attitude was gone now. James had moved put his arms around a sobbing Sirius. Finally the man managed "I am a Black. He was disrespecting me."  
  
"A Black?" shouted Mrs. Potter. "You scum of the earth. Come on Harold," she said, speaking to James' father. "Let's go."  
  
James looke horrified as they tried to pull him away from his friend. "No! I can't leave him!" he was shouting repeatedly. His parents didn't understand what had happened and did not listen to his attempts to explain. Finally Mr. Black scopped up his child and joined his wife in the now thin crowd of people exitting.  
  
"Remember, I'm James Potter!" the boy suddenly shouted. "We'll be Aurors together!" Both set of parents looked confused, but once again Sirius understood the cryptic message.  
  
"I'm Sirius Black!" The other boy shouted back, barely audible. It was his only glimmer of hope now. Surely when they arrived home he would recieve the beating of a life time.  
  
It was sad that their families were so opposite. James would probably recieve a treat when he got home. Parents saying things about how worried they were and to never sneak off again. But he won't listen. He will be writing an owl to 'Sirius Black' in his head.  
  
Sirius Black and James Potter. The saga begins. 


	2. The Bite

Chapter Two of The Saga  
  
The boy's soft honey eyes were narrowed as he crept through the woods a dusk. He had a dusty old cap on his head because it was getting cool outside and his mother insisted upon it. In his hand, he held what looked like a Muggle slingshot; in the other were four silver coins.  
  
"Remus! Remus John Lupin! Where have you wandered off to this time? It's getting late!" the boys mother called.  
  
Remus groaned. "Mum! I'm hunting werewolves!" he called back. He took one of the silver coins in the slingshot and THWAP! it was flung at a tree.  
  
"Remus, come inside now! There are real werewolves out there, and you could get hurt!" his mother said fretfully.  
  
He peered out the window as his mother led him into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table and studied her carefree, troublesome son through concerned eyes.  
  
"Remus, you can't do that. You really could get hurt. It isn't funny," his mother said. "What if you get bitten?"  
  
"Oh, Mum, quit being silly," Remus said. His eyes wandered to his mother, then back to the window. And as he gazed out, two evil, yellow eyes were gazing back. His eyes widened.  
  
"Mum," he whispered. "Come look...."  
  
His mother swooped over, gazing out the window. She gasped, calling for her husband, "John... John, come here."  
  
Remus's father was a tall, thin man. He had sandy hair like his son, but his eyes were a deep blue. "Yes, Faoiltiama?" her husband ask.  
  
"Look," she whispered, gesturing towards the window.  
  
John walked over to the window, looking outside in slight interest. He stared back at the eyes that were moving back and forth, for the werewolf outside was pacing and watching them. He didn't move, didn't make a sound.  
  
"It got past your magical barrier... what if it decides to come closer?" Faoiltiama whispered, her dark hair falling into her face.  
  
He said hesitantly, "It won't come closer; there is no need to worry about that. But you," he turned to Remus, "you can't go out there on full moons anymore. It isn't safe." Remus's father's voice was calm, but very firm.  
  
Sighing, Remus said, "But Dad, it won't get me, I know it won't. I'm too—"  
  
Remus's father shook his head. "No, Remus, you can't go hunting werewolves anymore." He left the room and went into his study.  
  
Remus was furious. "It isn't fair, Mum!" he said indignantly. "I know it won't get me!"  
  
"Remus, love, it's for the best," his mother said calmly.  
  
"Well, that doesn't mean that it's fair," he said crossly.  
  
Faoiltiama messed up Remus's hair fondly, laughing at her son's cross expression. "My silly little wolf hunter," she said in a singsong voice.  
  
"C'mon, Mum, don't," he muttered, pushing her hand away. His mother just giggled.  
  
"Off to bed with you now," she ordered, mock sternly.  
  
Remus rolled his eyes. "Mum," he whined as he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.  
  
One Month Later  
  
It was once again a full moon, and Remus was fidgeting with excitement.  
  
"Remus, your father and I are going across the street to talk to our friends for a while. Stay in the house," his mother ordered.  
  
Stay in the house? he though. No way. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight. Werewolf hunting. That was exactly what he was going to do.  
  
His parents walked aimlessly, his mother glancing back at the house with a worried expression drawn across her features.  
  
Remus raced up to his room, pulling his bedside table drawer open and found what he was looking for. He pulled out his slingshot and a small pouch of silver coins. Then he ran just as fast back down, bumping into someone as he entered the kitchen.  
  
He yelled out in surprise.  
  
"Oh! Remus, love, I'm sorry; I forgot something I borrowed from Anna. I was only going to come back to get it...." his mother said, looking for something in a cabinet. "Ah, there it is."  
  
Remus shoved the slingshot and coins in his pocket. "Oh, okay, Mum. I'll see you in awhile," he said hurriedly. "Bye!"  
  
His mother glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Bye, love," she said slowly.  
  
He waited impatiently as his mother left the house, glancing back at him a last time and saying, "Behave."  
  
Behave? When his parents were leaving the house to himself, unlikely to return for hours, did he ever behave? No, of course not. Like the time he burnt down the tent in his back yard, or the time he broke three windows (accidentally, of course), Remus most likely would not behave.  
  
He slid quietly out the back door and slipped towards the forest quickly, eager and unafraid. His eyes held excitement.  
  
A breeze wafted through the night as the sun sank silently, the purple sky darkening considerably. The rustle of the leaves was welcoming to Remus as he crept through the forest. In the distance, he heard something that made his heart pound: a low, haunting howl of the werewolf.  
  
He had an idea.  
  
"Ouwooooo!" Remus howled in response to the werewolf. Another haunting howl returned, closer this time. "Ouwoooo!" He called out again.  
  
The werewolf didn't respond this time. Frowning, Remus howled again. But all he heard in response was the screech of a terrified cat and the growl of an angry wolf, nearer than before.  
  
Remus ran quietly, steadily, through the wooded area, pulling his slingshot out. Poor, foolish boy, most would probably have thought. He didn't actually think he'd survive if he came face to face with the werewolf, did he?  
  
But Remus wasn't thinking. He soon came to the clearing where the werewolf was ripping apart his mother's cat that had escaped some time ago. He winced at the sight, blood spraying from the cat as the yowls escaped from it. The werewolf was merciless and didn't stop until the cat was completely mangled and dead.  
  
Remus shuddered and let out a cry.  
  
The werewolf's head jerked, the blazing yellow eyes meeting his. Hands shaking, Remus tried to shoot one of the coins at the werewolf, but he could barely move. Fear had seized him.  
  
The werewolf took confident steps towards Remus, its head held high. Its sharp teeth were bared as it came closer. Its coat was as dark as the night sky, gleaming in the light of the full moon. It would have been terribly beautiful if Remus hadn't been afraid the dazzling teeth would be at his throat and the sharp claws dug into him in a few moments.  
  
Coming out of his daze, Remus stumbled backwards causing the wolf to growl warningly. He hit a tree, the rough bark ripping through his shirt at his shoulder.  
  
His mind screamed, Climb the tree!  
  
And that's what he did. He scrambled up the tree, causing the wolf to lunge at him. It caught onto his left shoe. He kicked furiously. The shoe came off and Remus pulled himself onto a high branch. He studied his foot. He wasn't bleeding, thank Godric.  
  
The werewolf circled the tree. It stared up at Remus with piercing eyes before nestling at the bottom of the tree, as if to say, You have to come down sometime.  
  
Remus leaned back against the tree, trembling. What was he doing out here? He just wanted to go home.  
  
"If I get out of this alive, I swear I'll do what my mother tells me to do," he vowed quietly. Remus sighed.  
  
Quite suddenly, there was a hiss above him and something jumped onto the branch where he was. Remus cried out in surprise as whatever it was angrily yowled and hissed at him. He studied the creature in the moonlight, his eyes wide. Oh, only another one of his mothers cats.  
  
"Get out of here!" Remus scolded. The cat growled angrily and swiped at Remus with its long claws, causing him to slip slightly, on leg dangling from the branch.  
  
The werewolf below looked up at him and stood up quickly. It backed up a few paces and took a running start, jumping at Remus's leg. Remus moved his leg just in time, and the wolf missed. It howled furiously.  
  
"Bloody cat!" he hissed at the animal that was still swiping at him. "Get out of here!"  
  
The cat's eyes narrowed at it jumped into a higher branch and laid lazily, looking at Remus angrily.  
  
Remus let out a trembling sigh as he leaned against the tree again, closing his eyes this time. He needed to sleep, and he'd go back in the morning and explain what happened to his parents. He knew he would be punished, but he didn't care.  
  
Slowly, Remus drifted into an uneasy sleep.  
  
Just Before Dawn  
  
Remus awoke with a start, looking around worriedly. Where was he? In the forest, werewolf hunting.... Where was the werewolf? He looked down at the ground and didn't see it anywhere. With a sigh of relief, he slid out of the tree.  
  
He walked quickly away, the leaves rustling as he looked up at the paling sky.  
  
He froze.  
  
Please let me be imagining this, he thought as the werewolf behind him growled.  
  
But he knew it was real. He spun around to stare at the werewolf, its eyes looking at him intensely. Its teeth were bared and it stepped closer and closer. It was only a few feet from Remus.  
  
"P-please... d-don't hurt me," he whispered.  
  
The wolf howled hauntingly and dove at him, knocking him to the ground and sinking its teeth into his shoulder. He felt his own warm blood stain his shirt and make the fabric stick to him. He cried out in pain.  
  
The wolf howled hauntingly and dove at him, knocking him to the ground and sinking its teeth into his shoulder. He felt his own warm blood stain his shirt and make the fabric stick to him. He cried out in pain.  
  
The werewolf let go suddenly, howling out in pain also as the sun rose higher into the sky. The howls turned to high pitched screams. Through Remus's teary eyes he saw a woman appear. Her dark eyes were wide and fearful as she gazed at him.  
  
Gliding over to him, she murmured, "What have I done to you, poor child?" She kissed his forehead. "Everything will be all right." She screamed loudly, "Help! Help!" She hoped the boys guardians were near by and she whispered something to him, but he didn't here her.  
  
The pain was unbelievable, he didn't even notice as the woman ran as fast as she could. He slid into unconsciousness.  
  
The Next Day  
  
Remus awoke with a start and bolted into a sitting position, ignoring the horrible pain in his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Remus!" his mother whispered and pulled him into a hug.  
  
"Mum, where am I?" he asked fearfully.  
  
"In St. Mungo's, love," she said. "You do remember what happened last night, don't you, Remus?"  
  
Remus nodded. It was sort of hard to forget.... He let out a shuddering sigh.  
  
"Mum..." he began. And again, you witness the innocence of children that they lose as they get older. "Mum, do you... do you think that if I listened to what you said and did what I was told... do you think that I..." he faltered, "... that I wouldn't be a werewolf?"  
  
Tears stung his mother's eyes as she drew him into a hug a tighter hug and whispered, "No, love, no... you're a werewolf." 


	3. Business Trip

The door of a small house opened and a man with two suitcases was leaving to get in a waiting cab. At least he was trying to leave. Clinging to his suit-clad leg was a small, round boy. The boy was crying and his father was doing his best not to get frustrated.

The man was about to go on a week long business trip, as it was referred to around the boy. Actually he was an Auror and he was off to fight against dark wizards for a week. Then he was to return home for a few days and then be off stationed in Romania for three months.

"Daddy! No! I want you to stay!" screamed the boy as he wiped his face across the fabric of his father's pants. The boy's mother was standing a few feet away biting her lip.

"Come on now, Peter. Let go. He will be back soon and then you can learn to play quidditch." The boy sniffled and looked at his mother and then to his father. He had always wanted to be taught to play the sport. He would often grab the album of his parents school days and turn straight to the picture of his father playing quidditch.

"Really?" he asked his father. The man looked up at his wife. She had been the one to forbid that he learn until he was older. The woman nodded.

"Really son. As soon as I get back." Peter's tears stopped flowing and the cab outside honked. The man bent down and patted him on the head. "Bye, son. Be good." The cab honked again and the man hugged his wife before rushing out the door and speeding away.

Peter ran up and pressed his face against the screen door until the cab turned the corner. Then he sat on the floor staring out the door. His mother walked up behind him. "What are you doing, honey?" she questioned, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"I'm waiting for daddy to get back," he replied as if there was nothing unusual going on. His mother put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"That will be a long wait. Do you want to go have a snack instead?" He turned and looked at her curiously. "Apples with Carmel dip," she enticed him. His eyes snuck back to the road outside for a second before he jumped up and followed her to the kitchen.

After the snack was over he resumed sitting on the rug. In fact he stayed on the rug for every moment he could over the next week. He begged until his mother let him sleep by the door. He played there. He didn't even leave to watch his favorite show. When she asked him if he wanted to move he would just reply "I'm waiting for daddy so we can play quidditch." and kept on staring.

A week later Peter was sitting in front of the door drinking a cup of juice and smiling. Daddy was supposed to come home in a few minutes. Time was standing still for the small boy. He couldn't wait to learn quidditch. He had wanted to be a keeper since he was 4 years old (2 years ago).

Finally a car drove up. It was a long black, official looking car. "Mommy! Mommy! He's here!" The woman put down the dish she was washing and pulled off her rubber gloves before walking into the living room. The door of the car opened and a somber looking man in a black suit stepped out. Peter only bothered to watch for a second more before deciding to ignore this man and finish his juice, but his mother was stricken with worry.

Some kind of sixth sense told the woman what was coming. "Peter, why don't you go play in the den for a minute."

"But mom! I have to wait for daddy!" Peter replied, sounded almost offended.

"Just go," she insisted, her voice hardly a whisper.

The child did not yet understand what was happening, in all of his innocence so he just scowled and stomped away.

The black suited man knocked on the door and the woman nearly jumped. She answered the door and the man stuck out his hand to shake. "I'm Mr. Stevens from the Ministry. May I come in?" The woman only nodded and moved aside. The man lead himself to the couch and sat down. "You should take a seat for this, ma'am."

She did as he said. "What is the problem?" It was obvious to her that something was wrong and it had to do with her husband.

The man dung in his pocket and pulled out a letter with an official seal on it. "Read this ma'am. It should explain most of it."

Slowly she reached out and took the letter. Her hands shook as she broke the seal and unfolded it.

_Dear Ms. Pettigrew,_

_We regret to have to contact you with tragic news. Donald Pettigrew passed away at 2:00 PM during battle with Death Eaters this Saturday. As you must know, he was a valuable part of our team and the ministry is in mourning with you. Please accept our dearest apologies. Attached is his last words to your family and his friends. _

_Ministry Office of Deceased._

_These are his dying words which he requested we send for you to read._

_"To my wife, I will always love you. Take care of things and move on. Don't dwell. I will watch over you."_

_"To my son, I am sorry I never got to see you play quidditch. You would have been good. I love you. Take care of your mother."_

_"To all friends, Thank you. That is the most I can say. Thank you."_

When she was done reading the letter it had several smudges do to tears. A few garbled sounds came out of her throat before she managed "How?"

"The Death Curse hit him. It was painless. The reason I have come is to tell you the most horrific part of the story. The curse was not sent by a Death Eater, but by another Auror. It was aimed at the enemy but the Auror was pushed at the last second and the curse deflected to your husband. The ministry is terribly sorry. All the expenses of the funeral and burial and some compensation will be provided."

She look shocked until anger overcame her features. "Who did this? Who killed my husband," she exclaimed, her eyes flashing.

"For protection reasons we cannot tell you," the ministry man told her in a calm voice. Then he stood up. "I knew your husband. He was a good man and he wouldn't want you to try for revenge." With that he walked out of the house.

Mrs. Pettigrew sat rereading the letter without actually understanding the words for a long while after. It wasn't until after she read what her husband had said to his son for the sixth time that she remember she had to tell Peter. A shaky hand wiped her eyes before she went into the den. Now was as good a time as ever.

Peter looked up and knew that his mother was depressed. He stopped playing with his quidditch figurines. "Mommy, what's wrong? Did you scraped your knee?" he asked, demonstrating his innocence once again. He didn't realize there was something worse in the world.

"No honey. Its about you father." Peter just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "He isn't going to be coming back."

"So I don't get to learn quidditch until next week?" Peter asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"I mean..." she sat down on the floor beside him and pulled him into a hug, stifling tears. "He isn't going to come back ever."

"Not ever?" he questioned his eyes filling with tears. "I don't get to play quidditch?"

"Not ever. You father won't be teaching you." Peter burst into loud sobs and the woman held him even tighter. "I'm sorry," she added quietly, allowing herself to cry.

Peter seemed to notice the drops falling on his back because he pulled away to speak. "Was he supposed to teach you quidditch too mommy?"


End file.
